Triangler
by Black Sword
Summary: The bitter contradictions of a love triangle. What is it for?
1. Chapter 1

From the ramparts of the castle, it was easy to see the city, her whitewashed buildings roofed with clay tiles warmed by the sun. Pale cobblestone wove haphazardly through the city in a confusing array of roads, side streets and alleys, with marketplaces, parks, and plazas wherever there was space. To the west, the long narrow bay glistened in the sun as the overhanging limestone cliffs sheltered the harbor, a vision of haunting beauty in the mist-filled morning.

The breeze kissed Maia's cheek as it gently teased her hair. Brick bathed in the light of the sun warmed her fingers. In front of the castle, dozens of beautiful fountains gurgled a familiar tinkle. Birds sang their timeless melodies.

This was home.

Her hands curled into fists as the breeze continued to caress her. Her eyes stared into the cliff on the other side of the harbor.

She wished it felt like home.

It would have felt better if she did not feel so alienated. She had accepted that she would never recover her memories. She had come to terms with her lost past. Her intention had been to create a new future, hand in hand with Rhys. They had walked before the gathered nobility of Landen, had stood before King Saiki. Rhys had begun to recite the vow to take her as his wife. Everything had been perfect, until the future she had been about to embark on had shattered like the glass dome over the Black Throne.

Maia fingered her choker with its massive ruby, a gift from Rhys. In a way, she had been raised by Orakians. She realized that during her time in Landen's court, some remnant of her past had subconsciously resisted their attitude of fear and loathing, but it had certainly colored her perceptions once she had arrived in Cille. Her arrival by abduction to a city of snow and ice had not helped. To discover she was a Layan, sworn enemy of her fiancée, had struck her between the eyes, had shocked and dismayed her.

The people of Cille had greeted her return with joy, had taken for granted that their _Layan_ princess was the same as she had been before. Their faces had looked upon her with love and relief. It had taken her time to believe them sincere. She had been suspicious of everyone, certain it was all a ploy for some inexplicable purpose, but it was simply impossible for an entire kingdom of people to fake such sincerity. She only had to look at the court of Landen for reference.

More than just that had rooted her feet and prevented her from engaging in escape attempts. The land of Cille called to her. Her eyes, her ears, her nose, every organ that experienced the world wordlessly told her that all the sights, sounds, and smells of this Layan country were familiar, things she should know. They sang to her memories, tried to draw them out from the shadow of oblivion where they lingered and she chased them like the last scrap of food during a famine.

But just like anyone on the verge of remembering, the thoughts slipped through her fingers into the darkness of the mind.

She had stood before a beautiful mosaic once, a piece that had drawn her in like a moth to flame. The hundreds of small colored stones created a truly epic scene that had mesmerized her. A great blue sphere hung in the dark sky as a hero in white flew through the skies on a giant winged cat toward a castle in the sky. The workmanship was superb, so lifelike that one would almost expect the hero to leap from the wall and fly away on his impossible pet.

For hours, she had stood before the mosaic as the thread of memory entwined itself imperceptibly around her. She had stared hard, desperately trying to follow the sense of familiarity and the draw of her emotions to her past. But every time she reached for the remembrances, they slipped through her fingers. She eventually gave up and turned away.

As her lonely pursuit of self continued to fail, she began to make overtures to the man who called himself her father. There was some evidence of it, a few paintings here and there of King Ayn with two blue-haired women, one recognizable as herself. She listened to him speak, of stories of her childhood, of her family, of things they had shared and things she had enjoyed. She felt herself act in a way that felt _right_, but she could not explain _why_. Worse, the anecdotes were interesting, but felt like they were about a total stranger. They were about her, yet she did not feel it _was _her. The contradiction might drive her mad.

Maia had known from the start that Rhys would come for her. It was the type of man he was. Well aware of how deep hatred ran between the followers of Laya and the followers of Orakio, she began to prepare her people for the inevitable. She spoke to them of how well she had been treated, how honorable the Orakians had acted toward her. Obviously, she glossed over the slights of nobility, but she was certain the aristocrats of Cille were just as bad, if not worse.

Her words had caused an uproar, that was for certain. Even as they slowly starved, people debated whether she was insane, bewitched, or both. Still, she spoke on, determined to convince them of the truth of her words. The love the people of Cille bore for her competed with their hatred for their ancient foes. Maia was uncertain how much progress she had made in convincing them, but the Cille were definitely shaken.

She had made no progress at all with her father. King Ayn had stood resolute in his opposition to everything Orakian, especially her fiancée. Maia had begun to resent him for it. She had the proof of her eyes and was already contracted in marriage, with or without his permission. Still, as the days passed, she continued to press him. While she had no memory of the gruff Layan ruler, he was probably her father, and had definitely been kind to her. If her words could head off a potential confrontation between King Ayn and Rhys, it was worth the effort.

The arrival of her betrothed had been portended by many great signs, or so she felt. The end of the unnatural winter would have been the greatest one, if not for the appearance of a mysterious giant blue orb in the night sky. She had wasted no time in whispering in various ears that Rhys was coming and had redoubled her efforts with her father. In one way, she had succeeded; her father had brought as many monsters as he could on short notice into the castle.

When Lyle had proposed an engagement challenge, she had been wary, but hopeful. Rhys would win and Layans and Orakians would discover peace through their marriage and they could be happy.

She had never anticipated that her father would create a rival for her right in front of her.

_"It's true, Rhys. I've loved you ever since I was a child. I helped you this entire journey because I wanted you to be happy, even if it was at my expense. I want to fill up the world with my feelings for you. I love you and only you!"_

The words kept replaying in her memory. Outrage was just the mildest way to describe the effrontery of Satera's princess. Rhys was _her _fiancée, not Lena's! Her father's subsequent words had made it even worse.

_"You must now choose between Maia and Lena. Wed Maia and you shall become King of Cille. Marry Lena and you shall be King of Landen. These are your only choices."_

Why? Why would her father say such a thing? It didn't make sense! The worst of it was when Rhys had not made the obvious choice and declared for her. Instead, he had staggered out, stricken. Lyle had put his arm around Rhys' shoulders and helped him leave. The entire affair made the entire court dissolve into whispers.

Maia turned from her observation of her home, resolute. The whole incident was intolerable, but she would handle it with class. She would speak to Lena and put an end to this farce.

Quick, decisive strides took her into the castle to where she had heard Lena had gone ever since the debacle in the throne room. The _sati _was a comfortable garment around her as she walked toward the castle's female training room. It still surprised her how natural it felt to walk around in it. The relaxed fit certainly explained why she disliked Landenian bodices and skirts.

The stale stench of old sweat assaulted her nose long before she actually entered the room. Unlike the Orakians, Layan women fought in the armies on equal footing with the men. There were always far more male soldiers than female, but modesty demanded segregation. The sexes fought in single gender regiments and trained in single gender camps.

Humidity slammed into her body as the pungent odors that had soaked into the room over the decades made her gag. Free-standing humanoid targets stood on one side of the wall, stout targets for arrows and slicers. On the other were more complex dummies with long sturdy poles set at different heights. When someone rotated the wheel set a little away from the dummy, a mechanism activated and spun the poles at different heights and speeds. To add to its complexity, the poles' velocity changed depending on how fast the wheel was spun. The goal of that device was to teach evasion, when to strike, and prevent soldiers from falling into bad habits.

Usually, the room was filled with Layan warrior women, but they refused to be in the room with an Orakian. Only two women were inside. One was the redhead in the indecent outfit that had killed a Clops singlehandedly; she worked the wheel as the short brunette trained.

Maia watched Lena dodge the poles with ease. Satera's princess wore green pants and a white strip of thick cloth wrapped tightly from her midriff all the way all to her large breasts. The winding fabric flattened her bosom and obviously made it easier to move. Lena wore neither boots nor shirt, and held a pair of daggers in her hands.

Watching the short princess practice made Maia uneasy. It was obvious from the deadly strikes she made that Lena was a competent knife fighter. If the Orakian girl had owned anything like Rhys' height and strength...

_Let's get this over with._

Maia approached calmly, her anger kept under tight control. "You are remarkably skillful, Your Grace."

Lena stiffened before she leaped back from the poles. The brown-haired girl did not look at her as she took several deep breaths. Finally, her voice normal, Lena said, "You didn't think a warlord's daughter just sat around arranging flowers all day, did you?"

It was obvious the Sateran princess knew why Maia had paid her a visit, so there was no need to continue the pleasantries. "I want you to withdraw your declaration and leave."

The reply was instantaneous. "No."

"As you well know, I am his betrothed," Maia said coolly.

"I was engaged to him before you appeared," Lena replied. "As _you _well know, things can change when you least expect."

"Surely, Your Grace," Maia countered. "You can agree that my betrothal with Rhys is based out of mutual love, unlike yours was."

Lena's shoulders stiffened, but she still refused to face her. "When I was a child, I once took good care of a wounded pup I found. I became very fond of the pup because I was the one who healed it. I'm certain the pup became fond of me as well, as it was my pet for many years."

Anger filled Maia's breast at the sheer number of insults Lena had thrown her way. She bit off her next words. "Your Grace, I am certain you would agree that my union with Rhys would be the best for both of our peoples."

Still, Lena did not deign to look at her. She sheathed her daggers and crossed her arms. "Landen would not agree. Rhys' mother is governing his homeland so poorly that there may be another war, resulting in the deaths of many of the people he was _born _to rule."

Maia clenched her fists. Her father's condition made it much more difficult. When she had reproached him for it, he had countered her in a way she had not been able to argue with. He had said, "Did you not see the joy our people greeted you with upon your return? Would you ask them to lose you again? To an Orakian invader, no less, as if you were a mere prize to be carried off with the rest of the plunder?"

No need for her to know that. "But Your Grace, surely you can agree that your stance has caused Rhys some upset."

"Rhys is as bold as a Punisher," Lena replied, using a Landenian idiom that dated back to Orakio's time as a compliment for great courage and determination, "but that's not the only thing a king needs to be a good ruler. He must learn to make hard decisions, even if it's between two women he loves."

A touch of pettiness colored her next reply. "If Rhys really loved _you_, why did he bother to come to _my _rescue?"

Lena turned her head and looked at Maia. "If he only loved _you_, why didn't he refuse _my_ declaration of love on the spot?"

Maia raked Lena up and down with an inquisitive glare that not even a blind man could have missed. "Why would Rhys settle for second best?"

With that, she turned on her heel and stalked out. Behind her, she heard steel sink into wood. At least Lena understood her place. Now all Maia had to do was wait for Rhys to realize the same.


	2. Chapter 2

"You know, this probably isn't a good ide—"

"Shut up and drink, Lyle."

Rhys grimly reached for the spigot on the small keg Lyle had brought up. He already knew this was a bad idea. He had known that from the moment he had asked Lyle to bring enough alcohol to drown a Chirper in. Rhys consoled himself that at least he'd get some bloody sleep this way.

Opaque black ale flowed into his white ceramic tankard as the strong aroma wafted up to his nose. Ales back home in Landen were more of a cloudy mahogany than this dark fluid, another difference between this world and his own. At least the smell was familiar.

Lyle looked concerned. Rhys scowled at him. "Drink."

"Alright. Should we toast something?"

A sour twist to his mouth, Rhys raised his tankard like it was an executioner's axe. "To being between the sword and the wall," he said. With that, he took a deep draught of the sharp, bitter ale, the taste of alcohol strong in the unaged drink.

It had all seemed so simple in the beginning. A Layan monster had kidnapped his wife-to-be before they could exchange vows. All he needed to do was rescue her. Wasn't that how it always worked in the stories?

Another gulp brought more of the strong ale into his body. Real life was far more complicated than any story, that was for sure. His father had tossed him into the dungeons, his ex-fiancée and childhood friend (and best to veer away from that line of thought!) had broken him out. He'd met a cyborg so close to being alive as made no difference, had discovered not one but two worlds lost to his people for centuries, had ended an endless winter, had brought back the moons banished by his ancestor the great Orakio a thousand years ago, with help from Lyle and Lena (veer away, veer away!), had stormed a Layan castle with a bare handful of loyal followers, bested the ruler of the castle in a one-on-one duel...

Tankard emptied, Rhys set it down on the wooden table of Lyle's quarters. The alcohol began its insidious work as his stomach began to warm and his head began to feel lighter. His Layan counterpart was drinking far too slowly and earned himself a gimlet glare for tardiness. "Drink faster. I'm already done with mine."

"I want to savor the flavor," Lyle replied with that smirk of his.

"You just can't drink as much as I can and don't want to admit it," Rhys guessed. His gibe was rewarded with a frown.

"Don't be silly. I can drink you under the table."

"So start drinking," Rhys replied as he held his tankard under the valve again. "You're already a full pint behind. Unless you're ready to admit a little girl can drink more than you."

"That's absurd. I just-"

"Lyla sounds like a pretty name for a baby girl," Rhys taunted. "With pink ribbons in her hair and a giant pink bow."

Glowering, Lyle took the tankard to his lips. Rhys watched the convulsive moments of the Layan prince's throat as he swallowed the bitter drink. When Lyle set the tankard down again, Rhys looked over the vessel's rim to make sure it was empty. Faking a draught was a trick that surely must have been ancient in Orakio's era, let alone today.

Miffed was the best word to describe Lyle's expression. By way of apology, Rhys refilled his friend's tankard. That done, they drank in silence for some time, their pace thoughtful as more ale entered their bodies. Rhys did his best to avoid thinking of anything in particular, though the more he drank, the more thoughts wandered into his skull. He did his best to worry about things he should worry about because they were the things he should worry about.

Rhys frowned, vaguely confused at his thought. He shook his head and with a huge effort, concentrated on his worries. His father was gravely ill, bedridden, and the kingdom was in danger. That's what everyone had told him, so it had to be true. But he couldn't just go home and fix things, he couldn't. Because...

With another great exertion, Rhys looked around the room. It was luxurious, as befitted a room for a guest of the King of Cille. It was also nicer than his, but that was no surprise, since he was Orakian. Wren stood by the door, his wild black hair at odds with that stoic pale face of his. The big cyborg was probably calculating exactly how much alcohol they had imbibed and how it was affecting them. Rhys was pretty sure it was his fifth tankard...or was it the sixth? Cille ale was pretty strong. Good thing Wren was here to keep an eye on him. He'd told Wren to ignore any orders he said while drunk, even if he ordered Wren to ignore that he ordered that. Mieu wasn't here, though. Ever since they had arrived in Cille, Rhys had told Mieu to watch Lena's back.

His face felt numb, but he was certain it moved into the scowl he told it to move into. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Lyle blinked. His eyes slowly focused. "Tell ya wut?"

"Tell me Lena loved me. Ya knew and told yer uncle and not me."

"I did!" Lyle protested. "I did, a whole buncha times!"

"Didn't," Rhys responded crankily. "Not a single word, not a one."

"Ah left ya two alone much as I could!" Lyle protested. "She kept burnin' the food 'cause of ya. Wasn't eatin' burned vittles for my health, was eatin' 'em so ya'd realize it."

"That's not saying," Rhys said firmly. At least he thought he said it firmly.

"Wut was I supposed to say? 'Thanks fer savin' Aquatica, y'all can go home now, by the way, Lena loves you?' After ya knew I was a Layan? Nuthin' suspicious 'bout that at all! Ya said ya wanted to go to Cille. Well we went to Cille, 'cause I promised I'd do anything fer ya, so I did. So there."

"Coulda said sumthin'," Rhys muttered.

Lyle looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Thas not the sorta thing a man gets involved in. Who ya love is yer problem, and I'll sit and drink with ya 'cause it's tough and I'm yer friend, but I ain't gettin' involved."

"Ya told yer uncle."

"'Cause I was tellin' him everything ya did and everything I saw." Lyle stared down into the bottom of his tankard and did not look at him. "Didn't expect him to do such a mean thing."

"Mean's pushin' a little girl in mud. This is cruel, really cruel."

Choose between Lena and Maia. Choose between Landen and Cille. How was he supposed to do that? "Between the sword and the wall," Rhys said as he stared at his empty tankard. Before he could refill it, Lyle spoke.

"It's yer fault, ya know."

"Huh?" Anger began to surge in his veins as he understood what Lyle said. "I didn't ask for this!"

"Yeah you did."

"How did I ask for this?" Rhys slammed his fist. The table shook violently beneath the strong blow. It didn't hurt, so he banged his hand against the offending furniture several more times. "I'm between the sword and wall, loving two women at the same time!"

"And that's why ya asked for it," Lyle said, green eyes slightly out of focus. "Ya missed the obvious with Lena, and ya fell in love with mystery woman Maia. And then ya started gettin' a clue with Lena but were too dense 'bout it, so my uncle made ya pick 'cause he knew."

"I didn't ask for this," Rhys whispered.

"Ya did by being dense. Ya should have seen from the start Lena loved ya. If ya had, ya wouldn't be in this mess. Why did you realize it, anyway?"

"I...don't know. I just..."

"Ya just what?"

"I don't know. I feel calmer and happier and stuff with Lena around. I like talking with her and touching her. We've been friends since we were kids, so I never noticed her as...as..."

"As a woman, so ya didn't think about why ya mighta felt all that stuff," Lyle said with a nod that should have sent his head smashing into the table.

"I didn't ask to live a love of three."

"Except now ya are. Ya realized Lena's a woman, and ya got feelings fer her cuz she makes ya feel good, and ya came out here 'cause ya fell in love with Maia 'cause she was mysterious and needy and ya were the big hero who rescued her so she's yer reward."

That one hurt. He protested, "It's not like that!"

"Mebbe," Lyle said as he frowned at the bottom of his empty tankard and put the vessel beneath the valve. It took him another moment to remember his other hand and turn on the spigot. "'Cept I'm a knight too, and it's really appealin' to be the big protector and get the girl in the end, isn't it? That's why those stories are so popular." Lyle took a big swallow of ale before he resumed talking. "Ya know how in the stories and stuff the prince and the maiden fall in love in an hour and have a happily ever after?"

Rhys nodded at Lyle's words.

"A thorny question arises: did the prince really fall in love with the maiden?"

"It wasn't like that!"

Lyle grunted. "If you say so. I dun see how else it could be. Maia still doesn't remember anything, so aren't ya just in love with yer idea of Maia and not Maia?"

All of these questions and statements were things Rhys had felt but never verbalized, even to himself. Even intoxicated, each query came as slap. "You comfort me with thorns!"

The Layan prince bared his teeth at Rhys in an angry rictus. "I comfort ya as best I can. Ya got yerself into this, and ya dragged Lena and Maia into it too. Now ya have their honor and yers at stake, and no matter what ya do, there ain't gonna be a perfect happy ending. People are gonna be hurt and shamed no matter what."

"That doesn't help," Rhys wailed. "I don't know what I want to do or what I should do!"

"It's yer wants that got ya into this," Lyle rebuked him again. "Nobles arrange marriages 'cause they're what's best for the family. We're responsible to our ancestors and our children, and marriage is a way to secure the past and future. Ya had a good marriage arranged with Lena, ya know. Love's supposed ta be a product of our marriages, not a cause, and ya would have come out ahead than most 'cause yours would have had love pretty quick."

Another scowl crossed the Layan prince's face. "Ya threw that out 'cause what? Freedom? To marry for love? To do whatever ya wanted to do? Yer not a peasant. Ya got a duty to follow. Ya did it in Aridia and Agoe. I saw ya do it! Why didn't ya do it from the start?"

"I have a duty to myself," Rhys began weakly.

"DON'T BE STUPID!" Lyle roared angrily. Rhys flinched as the Layan prince slammed his tankard into the table. "'Duty to myself?' What is that shit? Ya think I _want _to be the King of Shusoran? I'd rather be the meanest beggar in the shittiest hovel in the world than the bloody King of Shusoran! But it's my damned duty, so I'll be the damned King of Shusoran and may Laya burn my eyes if I don't!"

More ale went down Lyle's throat before he thrust his vessel beneath the spigot and refilled it. "Ya didn't think of yer duty and now ya have this mess. Ya have a duty to Lena, a duty to Maia, and a duty to Landen and Agoe, and yer gonna have to figure out how yer gonna balance those, 'cause something's gonna give somewhere, especially since the whole world knows about it now."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." Rhys filled his tankard with ale and downed it in a trice.

"Ya may not want to talk about it, but yer gonna have to think about it. Ya can't keep them waiting for an answer. Ya think it's cruel that you have to choose? Isn't being this dense just as cruel? How much crueler is it to be stuck waiting for an answer, not sure if you're the rejected one?"

"How am I supposed to know? I can't just say I love one and not the other!"

"Like I keep sayin', it's not just about love anymore! Ya can't just decide just 'cause ya want yer _reward _from Maia or 'cause Lena has great tits!"

"Don't talk about her like that!" Rhys snapped.

"Which one?"

"I...just don't!"

Silence filled the room as they scowled at each other. After a while, Lyle silently reached over and took Rhys' empty tankard and refilled it before he filled up his own. The Layan prince stared down into his ale as Rhys struggled to find some semblance in his own incoherent thoughts. The best he could come up with was, "I just wish I knew what I should do!"

"Ya really want my advice?"

"I'm ready to ask Wren for advice!"

Lyle took a slow draught before he spoke again. "If ya can't figure out where yer duty is, then pick the one ya like the most. And I'm _not _talking about love. Loving someone is a _lot _easier than liking someone. You can fall in and out of love at the drop of a hat. Love can start at first sight and end the first time ya have a fight.

"But liking someone... that's a whole 'nother thing. You have to like each other. And I mean really, really like each other. 'cause let's face it, you're gonna be stuck with the lucky girl for the rest of yer life. Yer gonna see her every day, and yer gonna have to have kids together, and she's gonna have to be able to forgive ya for gettin' her into this mess.

"So think about it. Are ya gonna be able to handle her for the rest of yer life, with the ups and downs, and everything? What if she gets really sick and ya have to take care of her 'cause she won't be able to anything? Would ya be able to take care of her 'cause you like her company more than anybody else's?"

Green eyes squinted at Rhys. "Love may be a good reason to get married, but it's a pretty flimsy foundation, especially for us."

Whatever else Lyle was about to say was lost when the Layan prince's eyes widened and his cheeks suddenly ballooned. One hand on his mouth, Lyle lurched to his feet and staggered to the wash basin. Rhys heard him retch as the vile sound of vomit striking porcelain reached his ears.

He should go and help, but all he really wanted to do was lie down and wish for the room to stop spinning. Duty, Landen, love, like, Maia, Lena, Lena, Maia, what was he going to do? Maia was beautiful, she had such mysterious eyes, but Lena was pretty too, her eyes were big and warm and he just wanted to do anything when she made those eyes at him. So very pretty, glittering like sapphires, dark as pools of fall leaves…he loved them both. How was he supposed to choose? What about his duty? Where did it go? He owed Lena a great debt he could never repay, greater still because of how he had shamed her in the first place, but now he had an obligation to Maia too and how was he supposed to balance the two when they couldn't both be met. Bitter contradictions of a love triangle, what was it for? Lyle said that he should be with the one he liked, but what was like? The one whose company he liked most? That wasn't hard to answer, that was...


	3. Chapter 3

Lena stalked down the hall, Mieu in her wake. She cared nothing for the intricate mosaics, masterful paintings, or geometric reliefs that decorated Cille's castle. Layan soldiers would turn their hostile gazes on her as she swept by, but the Orakian princess did not even dignify them with a return glare. She was certain that if she did, someone would end up with a broken nose, and it would _not _be her.

_Why would Rhys settle for second best?_

That... that... _bitch_. How _dare _she? Second best? _Second _best? Lena's vocabulary was too limited to come up with a vulgarity suitable for that Layan chit. She should have sent her ladies in waiting to eavesdrop on the soldiers and pick up true gutter words. At least then she'd be able to express her vitriol correctly.

She was the heir to half a world! Lena's blood was just as royal, if not _more _so, than hers, the Layan princess of a petty kingdom! Settle for _second _best? At least she still had her memories! At least she was not a tool for someone else in this twisted, tangled love triangle game!

Bitterness filled the quiet laugh that emerged from her lips. At the very least, her pride refused to allow her to demote herself to the level of tool. She had consciously chosen to join the hurtful game because to remain silent was just too much.

The entire journey from Shusoran to Aridia and back had been spent in the delicate, difficult dance of courtship. Lena had striven to entwine herself so firmly in Rhys' thoughts that he would have no room for Maia. She thought she had seen seedlings of success, the way he instantly warmed to her presence, the way he sought her out, the way he looked at her... and _looked _at her. Lena had pretended not to notice, but the attention was flattering... if embarrassing.

The recalcitrance of King Ayn had seemed the barrier that would break Rhys from his infatuation of Maia, but Lyle had stepped in. Clever Lyle, always ready and able to wear the garb of the trickster. His solution was so clever, so astute and to the point. An engagement challenge where Rhys could ask a boon and King Ayn would have to grant it.

Even now, she had to respect Lyle's adroitness. True to character, the way he phrased his suggestion had led expectations in one direction while the trickster created another way for all involved. Everyone had expected Rhys to ask for Maia as his bride. That he had not was due to King Ayn's manipulation of Lena.

Frankly, things had gone as well as could be expected. Rhys had staggered out of the throne room with Lyle's support, Cille's court had dissolved into whispers and Maia had glared at her with profound dislike. The important thing, however, was that Rhys had not declared for either of them. Stalemate was the best immediate result.

In a way, she had been glad to be manipulated. The finality of the circumstances had forced her to be honest and had lent her the words she needed to express what she felt. To her own self, at least, she had been true.

_Why would Rhys settle for second best?_

The gall that Layan chit possessed! Maia had wounded her to the quick with a mere seven words. Lena dearly wished she could have retaliated, but the skewering statement had left her immobilized long enough for Maia to retreat. Deprived the target of her rage, she had tried to vent her frustration in training, but it had only taken two hard lumps for her to realize her mindset was unsuitable for such exercise.

Lena admitted it to herself, if no one else: she was jealous. Her resentment had not faded just because her rival was no longer on the scene. No, it had merely gone underground, out of sight but not out of mind, gaining strength in the part of her that whispered doubt and stewed in negativity. She did like that part of herself. She did not like the insecurities that were nurtured there and infected the rest of her outlook on life, but as much as she strove to silence those anxieties, that nagging voice in her head persisted.

Yes, she was jealous. Jealous of the beautiful rival who had magically washed ashore in Landen, who had turned her world upside-down, who had disrupted her sense of how things were _supposed_ to be. Every time Lena saw Maia, in the flesh or in her mind's eye, she could only feel _wronged_.

So long as she was being honest, she slightly resented Rhys as well. How could he have been so dense as to miss her feelings for so long? How could he have broken their engagement for a girl who did not have a single memory in her head? Without memories, how could Maia be more than an idea? Why was he chasing an idea when there was a real woman who loved him?

An angry shake of her head banished that nagging voice. For now. Her eyes raked the castle in all its alien splendor. Under other circumstances, she might have admired the foreign beauty and wondered at whether some subtle elements could be applied to the castle of Satera. Presently, it only served to enhance her estrangement from the brighter side of her nature and deepen her depression.

In her more charitable moments, which were fewer the longer she was in Cille, Lena understood it was not anyone's fault. She had learned in Shusoran that Maia had vanished along the shore on the day of a tremendous storm. From there, Maia would have had to survive drifting across the sea, wash ashore on Aquatica's mainland, avoid any human contact until the cave to Landen, fall asleep by the entrance, traverse the labyrinthine passages without food, come out the other end, and then somehow fall into the sea yet again to wash ashore yet again. It was too improbable to be possible _with _memories, let alone the helpless amnesiac that had been taken in like a lost puppy.

Maia had been a tool and still was. For now, she was King Ayn's tool to hurt Rhys, just as Lena was the King's tool to prevent an unwanted union between Orakians and Layans. But who had taken Maia from Aquatica to Landen and set everything in motion? Such acts smacked of divine intervention, but which deity had done the deed? Orakio or Laya? And why had they three been the chosen victims?

_Deception and treachery. The bitter contradictions of a love triangle. What is it _for_?_

"You look like a dozen Giants decided to use you to play Break the Pot, Prince."

Her head snapped up. Rhys was here. He had avoided Lena and Maia as assiduously as a thief hid from the law. She had refused to seek him out; she had done her part, it was now his burden to decide his bride. Lena did not know if Maia had been as judicious, but for some strange reason, she suspected Lyle would have turned the Layan princess away if she had not. For all his tricks, she believed Lyle was the kind of man who preferred to play fair.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she took him in. His eyes were red and weighed down by dark bags, his skin possessed by a grim pallor that matched that of Wren by his side. Rhys' expression was one of uncertainty. His face exuded pain. Even now, with his haggard appearance and those doubts in her mind, her heart soared at the sight of him.

"I feel worse than I look, Mieu," came the reply, his eyes on Lena.

Laughter as real as any Orakian's emerged from the redheaded cyborg's lips. "Is His Gracelessness in the same condition as you?"

A wan smile emerged. "Last I saw him, his head was in his wash basin and he was praying for death. Laya had not obliged. He seemed about ready to ask Orakio to fulfill his wish on the theory that they'd both smite him for blasphemy."

"How very practical," Mieu said, too reasonably. "You have something important to discuss, so I'll keep watch over here."

With that, Mieu turned on her heels and walked in the direction they had just come from. They stared at each other awkwardly, blue eyes looking into brown, accompanied only by Rhys' silent Wren. The silence dragged on, each mute moment another leaden burden on her heart. Trepidation filled her as awful realization set in. _He picked Maia, he had to have picked her, why else is he here, why else isn't he saying something?_

Rhys began to speak. "I asked my boon from King Ayn—Lena, where are you going?"

She had turned away from him the moment he had said that awful word. So he picked Maia? Then let him be happy with an idea instead of a real person.

"Lena, wait—"

She was not going to stay here for an instant longer. She had been publicly shamed by the man she loved in the stronghold of the ancient enemies of her people. Her humiliation would be the stuff of stories for centuries. She would probably be cast as the villainess for standing in the way of love. Her heart ached so that she worried it might physically break.

"Lena, stop, listen to me—"

Lyle owed her for putting her into this mess. He would take her home immediately. If she had to drag him out of his room by his ponytail, she would do so, his hangover be damned. He would escort her home—

"Listen to me, damn you!"

A strong grip latched onto her wrist. She violently tugged, but Rhys' hand stayed firm.

"Let me go," she said quietly. If she spoke any louder, her emotions would pour out, and she refused to break down in front of him. She would take her broken heart and the tatters of her pride elsewhere before she would allow herself that luxury.

"Listen to me!" Rhys insisted.

"I don't want to listen. I don't want to hear you picked her over me," she said. Lena began to pull at her arm, but still, she could not get away. Hysteria began to unravel her self-control. "Let me go, let me go, let me go!"

"I did not ask for Maia to be my wife!" Rhys shouted. "I asked that King Ayn make peace with Agoe!"

She froze. He had not...? The nagging voice quickly strangled the faint hope that had been born. "That doesn't mean you didn't pick her over me."

"I broke the engagement with Maia," he said. Pain was heavy in his voice. "I just left the private audience chamber. She's with her father."

Slowly, she turned toward him. Not all of the distress in his face came from illness. When it mattered, men never knew how to deal with a woman's broken heart, so they internalized that misery and made it a part of themselves, a self-punishment for what they had done. The hysteria began to bleed away.

"Why?"

"A wise man once said that if you can't decide by duty, and if you can't decide by love, then you should decide by the one you like more." Sincere blue eyes looked into hers. "I love you both, and I'm bound by honor to you both. But..."

Rhys struggled internally to verbalize his thoughts. "With Maia, I always felt like she was a fragile piece of glass. I always have to be at my best with her. With you, it's different. I feel like I can be myself with you. I feel calmer and happier with you. If I had to share someone's company for the rest of my life, I couldn't think of a better person than you."

She began to break down. Not from sorrow. Happiness. Great shuddering gasps shook her body as she covered her face.

"Lena? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cr—."

Lena blindly rushed him and hugged him tight. Rhys reeked of alcohol, a stench that offended her nose and made her want to back away, but she didn't care. She held on tighter as she sobbed and Rhys embraced her. He finally said the words she had longed to hear.

"I love you, Lena."


End file.
